


Check Yes If

by thepizzasitter



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: 3+1 fic, Academia, Anniversary, Communication, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Healthy Relationships, Memories, Misunderstandings, Oral Sex, Other, Pegging, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Trans Nezu | Piers (Pokemon), Vaginal Fingering, and 1 time she remembered, basically this is 3 times sonia forgot their anniversary, dyschronometria or adhd you decide, look at these two bicons being sweet on each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:20:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26945833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepizzasitter/pseuds/thepizzasitter
Summary: The first time, it wasn’t so much forgetting as it was just being buried under work and a presentation she had been looking forward to giving at Hammerlock University for nearly six months.She never did quite remember, though she came close enough that she still counted it. The day after or a week prior, but she learned quickly to celebrate as soon as it crossed her mind.It helped that he loved her guess-timations as much as he would the actual day. He never shamed her for getting it wrong, or for letting it pass without comment. If she went long enough without remembering, he would take the lead again and plan something for them.(Aka 3 times Sonia forgot it was her and Piers' anniversary and 1 time she remembered)
Relationships: Nezu | Piers/Sonia (Pokemon)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 52





	Check Yes If

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tastybaby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastybaby/gifts).



> The happiest of birthdays to my precious, wonderful friend Tasty! I hope today is filled with only the best things and more love than you know what to even do with. We adore you bunches and bunches and bunches!
> 
> This is a gift fic featuring a glimpse into Sonia and Piers' relationship over the years. It's a 3+1 style aka 3 times Sonia forgot their anniversary and 1 time she remembered. I’ve always thought that in a different world where Sonia was Champion instead of Leon, the thing she’d be bad at was sense of time, similar to how he’s terrible at sense of direction. So here we are! Hope you enjoy!
> 
> The music I listened to for the concert scene was [Angel](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xiK2JlBpzvI) by Massive Attack. Definitely check it out for the ambience.
> 
> Feel free to come yell with me on Twitter! My main/cosplay account is shyloren and my NSFW Pokemon side account is CryptidPiers

The first time Sonia forgot, it wasn’t so much _forgetting_ as it was just being buried under work and a presentation she had been looking forward to giving at Hammerlock University for nearly six months.

Piers was there, at the back where none of the academics could stare with disdain or distrust, and she’d have watched him the entire time were it not rude to gaze into middle distance rather than attentively at her audience.

He waited quietly as she made her rounds afterwards, keeping his distance but within eyesight in case she wanted him. She didn’t understand why he hung back, always in the mood for his company, until she was asked a rather invasive question about the longevity of their relationship given his assumed lack of status and education.

She was so righteously furious at the intent behind their words that it wasn’t until she was in the middle of telling them how long it had been that she realized—

Her head whipped up, seeking him out, and he immediately started making his way over to her, her eyes suddenly zeroing in on the bouquet he had been holding. She had thought it was for successfully getting through the speech, but now…

“Everythin’ alright?” He asked, pointedly ignoring the people around her.

“We’ve been together a year!” She blurted without thinking, eyes wide when surprise flit across his face before he smiled softly at her and held the bouquet up between them.

“Didn’t know you were keepin’ track, too. Happy Anniversary, love. Been a really good year gettin’ to be with you. I’ll take another, if you’re not sick of me yet,” he said, and she laughed while her colleagues gaped at them both, uncertain what to make of things when she grabbed his hand and carted him off, talking a mile a minute about needing to speak to one of her old instructors before they could leave and go celebrate.

He took her to her favorite midnight café, chin in his hand while she ate sweets and talked about the points she wished she had gotten to make during the presentation, because there was never enough time to say it all.

She paused a moment when she noticed him idly scribbling on a napkin, though his focus was on her. She was a fair hand at reading upside down, used to it from years at Uni and work with her grandmum.

_And the Fool sits across the way_

_Sharing sugar with the Scholar._

_In a midnight hour café_

_Where the icing’s a dollar._

A month later, when she stood in pink and black with makeup smeared across her face, laughing and singing with her friends in Spikemuth, she heard it in the middle of a crowd. Sung quick and dirty, suggestive and flirting the line with scandalous as many of his songs were, but his eyes were reverent and soft on her.

Only on her.

She had been struck by how sweet their kisses were when he crowded her against the door of her lab and didn’t ask to come inside, the last of the sugar crystals clinging to their lips melting away when she pulled back and dragged him in anyways.

 _Won’t forget next year_ , she had thought confidently as she clicked her fingers and he dropped to his knees.

/////

She closed the door, leaning against it and breathing in and out as deeply as she could, unable to keep the wide grin off her face. She felt on top of the world thanks to the breakthrough she and Hop had just had in their latest project, despite it being nearly one in the morning.

She kicked off her shoes, admiring the way they looked next to Piers’ own. She loved the flat they’d gotten together, was enjoying city life far more than she’d ever expected. Something smelled good, and she peeked into the kitchen to find a plate on the warmer for her, grateful and excited to eat whatever Piers had whipped up.

Fuck, was it her birthday and she’d forgotten or something? She had been known to do that a time or two. She dug into the shrimp alfredo and moaned quietly when, despite having probably sat for a little while, it was still soft and buttery enough that she didn’t mind.

Maybe she’d skip going to the lab tomorrow and dig through her recipe box instead. She could afford a day of rest now that they’d finally climbed over one of their biggest hurdles at work, and she wanted to spend some time with Piers, just the two of them. Maybe watch a film or do his nails or sit out at the park together. Put something in a slow cooker for them, knowing how much he liked when she would make stew or chili and garlic bread.

A warm, peaceful feeling welled up as she thought about getting to climb into bed with him, to brush the hair from his face and watch him wake just enough to murmur her name and pull her close before drifting back off.

Two years hadn’t changed the—

She dropped her fork.

Two years.

No.

 _No_ , it couldn’t be, it wasn’t—

She looked at the calendar, at the little heart with their initials in it that she had drawn for this very reason.

She looked back at the meal, suddenly realizing why it was her favorite.

It tasted like ash, now. Or regret. Or some other overly dramatic thing because what the _fuck_ was wrong with her? Two years in a row. The first two years. The easiest, theoretically, to remember!

How long had Piers spent planning this? Making this and waiting up for her?

When had he given up and gone to bed?

She put the rest in the fridge, feeling like she didn’t deserve it anymore, and debated whether she was brave or selfish enough to go sleep next to him or if she should just park herself on the couch and call herself ugly names all night.

She crept into their room, relieved for some reason she didn’t want to consider too closely when he was still on his side of the bed, leaving space for her. She undressed as quietly as she could, holding her breath, until she finally slid under the covers and had to exhale, everything feeling so much louder than it was in the dark.

Around the fifteen minute mark, in which she discovered she could be mean to herself just as easily there as in any other room, he mumbled something in his sleep, reaching for her and rolling so he was curved around her. He sighed contentedly before she could even think to move again, and she suddenly felt something wet below her cheek on his pillow.

She squeezed her eyes shut, reaching shaky fingers out to touch his face, ignoring the way he murmured again and pressed his face into the touch in favor of feeling the rough crust of dried salt along his cheeks.

 _I made him cry_ , she thought, unsure if it was horror or hatred she was currently feeling. Probably both.

She fell into fitful sleep about an hour before her alarm would normally go off, grateful as she drifted off that she had decided to take the day anyways.

When she woke, it was to his hands on her back, squeezing and kneading at her shoulders, the smell of a hot cup of tea to the left of her that was guaranteed to soothe the raging headache she was currently nursing.

She made a confused sound, and he shushed her, moving to her temples while she moaned into the pillow, partially in pain and partially in relief.

“You left your ponytail in,” he said quietly. “And I’m guessin’ you didn’t get much sleep.”

It all came rushing back in.

This time, it was her tears soaking the pillow.

“Fuck, am I squeezin’ too hard?” He asked, distress in his voice, and it only made her cry more.

“I—I’m—” She couldn’t get it out, her voice sticking in her throat, but he seemed to understand nonetheless, gathering her up into his lap and cradling her to him.

“You’re just makin’ it worse, love,” he reminded her, still squeezing her neck, trying to undo the damage and keep her headache from intensifying. “Gonna dehydrate yourself. Drink some tea, yeah? I’ll get you a water bottle in a minute.”

Why was he—

“Heard you had a big breakthrough last night,” he continued on, petting her hair. “Leon called, wonderin’ if you had seen Hop, and I said I hadn’t seen you so we figured you two got caught up in somethin’ at work. He texted later when Hop got home, but I was already asleep, just read it a little while before you woke up.”

His smile held none of the resentment or anger she had expected.

“Congrats,” he said, kissing her cheek. “I know that one was givin’ you both a lot of trouble the past couple weeks.”

“Why—why are you n-not—”

“Upset?” He looked embarrassed at the question, rubbing the back of his head and shrugging. “I was. Didn’t know what I’d done wrong, why you didn’t respond to my text askin’ when you’d be home. Thought you were pissed at me about somethin’, maybe for shrinkin’ your jumper in the wash by accident.”

“That was over a week ago,” she choked out, confused until the way he looked away reminded her of what little she knew about some of his exes. A week, a month, it wouldn’t have mattered to them. Anything was fair game to use against him if they were angry.

“At any rate, when Leon called I was, uh…he asked what was wrong. So I told him and he said it wasn’t anythin’ personal, that if you hadn’t come home and neither had Hop, it meant you’d just lost track of the clock. He said his terrible sense of direction was only matched by your awful sense of time, and it clicked, I guess, why you hadn’t come home.”

The understanding in his expression was too much, and she pushed her face into his neck, trying not to cry more. She’d have to wait hours for the swelling to go down enough to do her makeup otherwise, because she’d forgotten to buy more face masks that would do it quicker.

She’d forget her fucking _head_ were it not attached. He deserved better, deserved someone who didn’t have to set thirty alarms for important things. What kind of idiot could remember stats and data as-well-as-if-not-better-than Leon but not the day she’d met the fucking person she loved more than anyone in the—

“Hey,” he murmured, kissing her forehead. “Y’know I don’t care about that stuff, right? I just like havin’ an excuse to steal you away and keep you to myself for a day or two. If you don’t remember, it’s no big thing. You listen to me on the important stuff. Can quote somethin’ even _I’ve_ forgotten I said. No one pays attention like you do. Who cares if that doesn’t apply to time? Now I know not to take it personal, so I won’t. You’re clearly punishin’ yourself over somethin’ that wasn’t done on purpose when you _could_ be punishin’ me instead.”

She couldn’t help the shocked burst of laughter that escaped her, stifling it against his chest.

“What in the world do _you_ have to be sorry for?” She asked incredulously.

“Oh, I dunno,” he said with a cheeky grin, sliding down so he was lying under her, hair wild and messy against the pillow. Her heart ached when he reached up to hold her face and run his thumbs under her eyes, taking the lingering tears with them. “Could knock over your nail polish stand or somethin’.”

She gasped, smacking his arm while he cackled.

“Don’t you dare!”

He batted his lashes innocently at her and she snickered, pressing their foreheads together.

“I look a mess,” she sighed, closing her eyes when he used their proximity to kiss her neck, his hands pulling her close to him.

“You know I think you’re gorgeous every type of way, but I’ll wait so you can put on makeup if it’ll make you feel more confident,” he said between each press of his lips to her skin. “I get that. I’ll just lay here, all by my lonesome, desperate for some pretty redhead to come by and—”

“You are the _worst_ ,” she groaned, shaking her head and leaning back to strip her sleep shirt off. His eyes were instantly on her chest, and she giggled when he muttered a quiet _holy shite_ under his breath.

It was a mad scramble from there, laughter and accidentally weaponized elbows and teeth and tongue and _fuck_ she loved him, she loved him so much. Loved, too, that he saw the parts of her that she hated most and wasn’t even remotely phased by them.

When her fingers dipped into his shorts, it was to find him already wet, his folds slick and his cock hard when she rubbed her thumb against it. His startled moan was as much music to her ears as anything that ever came from his lips. He grabbed her wrist lightly, keeping her where he wanted her, panting when she started a rhythm against him that had him spreading his legs wider for her.

“Aquamarine or pink?” she asked, and he bit his lip, clearing his throat to try and answer when she just moved her fingers faster inside him.

“Pretentious,” he said, no heat to it. “It’s fuckin’ blue.”

“It’ll be nothing at all if you keep sassing me,” she said, grinning when that just made him whimper.

“Aquamarine then, you ridiculous academic.”

“Brat.”

“Mm,” he agreed easily. “But would you have me any other way, love?”

“I would,” she said, the words spilling out earnestly before she could stop them. Her cheeks burned a little at the sudden vulnerable look in his eyes. Sometimes she said things that made her want to run away, as she always did, still just enough of a coward to quit early. She was a scholar first and a lover second. Saying things without thinking them through always terrified her, no matter how true they were upon further examination.

Now was not the time to back away from that statement, though. Not when it was clear how badly he needed to hear that, whether he knew it or not.

She took a deep breath, re-centering herself.

“I would,” she said again, just a whisper. “I like you every-which-way.”

She was so glad she hadn’t taken it back when it made him swallow hard. Worth the anxiety if it gave him even a fraction of what he gave her when he was the one crooning things like that in her ear.

“Like me, do you?” He asked, burying his face against her chest to hide a blush of his own.

“Like-like, even,” she said, reaching into their beside table to grab her strap, her excitement evident when he tugged down her knickers and helped her settle everything into place.

She lost all sense of time from there, but when it was because of this, she couldn’t bring herself to mind.

/////

She never did quite remember, though she came close enough that she still counted it. The day after or a week prior, but she learned quickly to celebrate as soon as it crossed her mind.

It helped that he loved her guess-timations as much as he would the actual day. He never shamed her for getting it wrong, or for letting it pass without comment. If she went long enough without remembering, he would take the lead again and plan something for them.

“I was close,” she defended over the loud scream of a guitar, a concert they’d stayed up all night to snag tickets for.

_“I want to just enjoy some music for a change,” he’d said. “Sing with you in the audience.”_

“Not even remotely,” he countered, throwing horns when a particularly good note echoed through the space. The guitarist answered in kind, sticking her tongue out in homage. “Three weeks? Nah, that’s pushin’ it.”

She opted not to answer, knowing she was probably losing clips from how hard she headbanged when the chorus hit hard enough to rattle the floor. She could feel his eyes on her as easily as the sweat gliding down her neck, and she moved out of her braced stance to meet his eyes, scrunching her nose at his impressed look.

“Nothing you haven’t seen me do before,” she reminded him, and he smirked.

“I forget, sometimes, what a groupie you are.”

“What can I say?” She asked, matching his playfulness and sauntering over to him. “I like when it’s heavy.”

He hummed low in his chest, reaching for her hips and reeling her in, the song starting to bleed out into something much slower. A pulse as deep as the mines studded throughout Galar. A wild land brought to heel, but ultimately untamable.

Sometimes _she_ forgot how tied to Galar he was. How well he matched that same pulse.

“Do you now?”

He backed her towards a shadowy space near an alleyway, the concert still easily viewed, though it would be difficult for anyone to see them. Her breath caught in her throat at the mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Pretty thing, comin’ into my territory and showin’ that kind of prowess when I’m down in the crowd with you. No stage or mic to stop me from gettin’ a closer look.”

Oh fuck, she certainly wasn’t going to complain if _this_ was the kind of mood he was in.

She wouldn’t be the one in charge tonight.

“So you’ve noticed when it’s your concerts,” she said, raising a brow. “And yet I’ve not been dragged backstage in the five years we’ve been together. Care to explain that?”

He leaned back against the wall, turning her to face away from him so she could keep watching the show while he pulled her close to him, teasing his fingers along the edge of her studded belt before slowly unbuckling it.

“’Cause the last thing I usually want after Spikemuth’s taken everythin’ it needs from me is more Spikemuth,” he laughed, pushing her shirt up just enough to get his other hand under it, stroking the sensitive skin of her stomach while she tried to decide if she was really going to let him do this here, where anyone could possibly glance over and—

His hand slipped under the waist of her skirt, rubbing at her lightly through the fabric of her tights, and she melted back against him. His colours on her, things she had owned long before they had become friendly with each other. She had always loved his music.

 _A bit like my heart_ , he had said once. _We were all at that restaurant in Hammerlocke and it was already too late for me._

Yes, she was absolutely going to do this here. He wouldn’t let anything happen. Her reputation was as safe in this moment as it was in the lab or the streets of Wyndon.

“I like bein’ able to have a kip on the couch at home with you,” he whispered in her ear, and somehow the contrast of the wild setting and the domesticity of his words only served to make her squirm against him. “But I suppose I could make an exception a time or two. Tell my Yell goons to fuck off so we can be as loud as we like. Can’t guarantee that couch will be as comfy as ours, but it sure does hold up where it counts.”

She moaned, reaching up and back to wrap her hands in his hair, giving him unfettered access to the rest of her body. He kissed her neck, biting gently at it.

“Nice thought, isn’t it?” He teased, rubbing a nipple until it was hard and aching, fingering her until she could feel the wetness start to seep through the material of her tights, nothing underneath to stop him from feeling how soaked she was getting. “Almost as nice as you not wearin’ a stitch under these, you absolute _tart_.”

Her whimper was easily drowned out by the wail of the instruments on stage, but it didn’t seem to matter. He could feel it from how closely he was pressed against her.

He used his free hand to work at the back of her bra, undoing the clasp with deft fingers so he could cup and squeeze at her chest, making her tremble whenever he played with them hard enough to sting just a bit.

Just enough.

When he finally sought his way beneath her tights, she cried out, throwing her head back against his shoulder as he dipped his fingers in and out of the slick he found there, coating them.

“So wet for me,” he growled, and _Arceus_ —

She keened when he started toying with her clit, a slow, dirty grind that mirrored the way the guitarist was shredding out an equally filthy riff.

He swayed them in time with it, his chin hooked over her shoulder, his voice at her ear commenting on the lights and the arrangement of the stage like he wasn’t two fingers deep into her and making her thighs shake, hell bent on her pleasure.

“Can’t wait to get you home,” he said, kissing her jaw, grinning against it when he moved just right and she nearly came, held at the edge and shaking hard enough that she was nearly willing to beg to be pushed over. She didn’t know if her pride was a blessing or a curse in moments like that. “Maybe I’ll get out that new vibrator you think I don’t know about. The one that’s been hiding in the closet for months now.”

“Supposed— _ah_! Piers, oh fuck, right there, _right there_ , please! Supposed to be for you, was— _nnh_! Birthday present!”

“You got my birthday and our anniversary mixed up again,” he chuckled, and the flash of shame she felt was nothing to the way he moved his fingers faster, intent now on not keeping her waiting any longer. “I know you hate it, but you’ve no idea how endearin’ that is. You categorize things constantly. Always organizin’ things into piles to be analyzed and sorted through and put into new piles. I can never hope to have even a fraction of the sort of smarts you’ve got.”

She wanted to tell him that his intelligence lay in the emotional. He was no dullard, not by a longshot. She wouldn’t have been able to be with someone with no natural curiosity, no interest in the contents of a book or study. But where he excelled was in how easily he dealt with people, something she had never been very good at. She preferred the company of long-dead scholars she didn’t have to prove herself to over and over again.

Every moment she spent unlearning so many of the less than healthy habits she had picked up over the years, he spent helping her seek out a new one. And when he was the one going through the wringer, the doors in his heart were still unlocked for her, even when he was backed against the wall and hissing a little at the thought of having to rely on someone else.

As it stood, she couldn’t say much of anything besides his name and _please_.

“I like that you sort all the celebratin’ days together. That you hardly differentiate them from the everyday, because fuck, Sonia, I feel that all the time. Five years and every time I wake up next to you I think ‘Arceus’ tits, she’s still here. Wow, I am one lucky bastard.’ Even shitty days are better knowin’ you’re in them somewhere. Love you _so fuckin’ much_.”

It was those particular words twining with the thud of a base drum. The way he pressed his thumb to her clit, the feeling of it overwhelming. The flash of an illuminating light just missing them. All of it had her gripping his hair tight and biting her wrist, coming hard enough that her ears were ringing while she spasmed and cried out his name.

He slid to his knees long before she was ready, a flashfire movement as she slumped against the wall without his support at her back. Ducked under her skirt and got his mouth on her while she was still riding the high of orgasm.

She weakly pawed at his hair, instinctually trying to move him away, but he knew better than to stop now. His tongue was warm and wet against her, soothing and arousing all at once. She was so glad the volume of the stadium was enough to drown her out when he moaned and shoved a hand down his shorts, the look in his eyes dazed and wanting when he glanced up at her.

Seeing him get off on pleasuring her was enough to have her coming again within minutes, panting hard and whimpering when he finally slowed, lapping lightly at her to clean her up and laying a last kiss that had her taking in a ragged breath before he leaned back. His chin was slick with it, and she saw his tongue peek out for a taste before he leaned his forehead against her thigh and fucked himself on his own fingers.

She petted his hair while she came back down to earth, encouraging him with some filth of her own. All the things she wanted to do to him whenever they managed to stumble back home, one too many cheap beers in them after the show.

Hearing him call for her when he found his satisfaction was better than the rest of the band’s songs combined.

/////

She glanced at the calendar and the pen dropped out of her mouth.

Oh, today was—

_Holy shite!_

“I gotta go!” She yelled to Hop, glasses askew as she hurriedly started grabbing at her papers, trying to stack them quickly and running to put her books away as fast as she could. “Be a dear and close up for me, would you?”

“Huh?” Hop asked distractedly, and Sonia nearly laughed at how much that sounded like Leon.

“I just remembered something important. Don’t burn anything down before tomorrow, okay?”

“Sure thing, boss,” he said unconvincingly, considering he still wasn’t fully paying attention. Ah well, he’d be fine. She’d call his squad on the way home to come keep an eye on him.

Lucky number seven, she supposed.

She found him at home, one pen in hand, one behind his ear, and chewing on a third, deep into the writing process. The door slammed open in her haste, and his head shot up, both of them staring wide-eyed at each other before a slow grin began turning up the corners of his mouth.

“Did…did you just—”

“Yeah, just a few minutes ago. I—”

She tackled him to the floor, both of them laughing while he rolled them on the carpet, making Yamper bark and run in circles around them, trying to lick their faces.

“I don’t have anythin’ planned,” he said breathlessly, and she shook her head.

“I want to plan something. I’ll figure it out, give me a minute.”

“You have half that before I start gettin’ undressed.”

“You cannot be serious! I finally remember our anniversary on the day and you _don’t_ want to go get soused at the place with the good nacho tray?”

“Fuck, never mind, let me get my boots!”

“It’s _my_ turn to treat, and I mean it! If I see your wallet chain once tonight I’ll bend you over my knee!” She yelled, hurriedly running to the room to throw on a change of clothes while he hunted for his.

“Promises, love! Keep makin’ ‘em!” He called back, and she giggled, already in a reminiscing kind of mood. She wanted to pour over as many moments with him as they could cram into one evening.

Seven years. Every one of them better than the last.

“Think you have another year in you?” She asked over bar food neither of them would admit to being their favorite except on days like this. She tapped her crisp against his before they did the same with their glasses.

“For you? Sure, twist my arm a little harder and you might get all the ones after that, even.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

He took her hand, pressing her knuckles to his cheek before kissing them.

“I like _you_.”

“Yeah?” She leaned in, making kissy lips at him till he snickered and obliged.

“Like-like, even,” he said between quick little presses of his mouth to hers.

At that was something she wouldn’t be forgetting anytime soon.


End file.
